


precious

by gingergenower



Series: the garrison [5]
Category: The Musketeers (2014)
Genre: F/M, Fluff, angst if you squint, post 3x07 reaction fic SPOILERS UP TO THAT EPISODE
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-16
Updated: 2016-07-16
Packaged: 2018-07-24 10:22:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 964
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7504615
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gingergenower/pseuds/gingergenower
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Porthos and Constance talk about Epasse, the all female village, and Elodie.</p>
            </blockquote>





	precious

**Author's Note:**

> post 3x07: I couldn’t imagine Constance not getting all starry eyed over the idea of an all-female village  
> SPOILERS FOR THE LOVE OF EVERYTHING HOLY SPOILERS

“Built and run by ‘em.”

Elbows on the table, Constance leaned across, biting her bottom lip and watching Porthos with shining eyes. “And it was _all_ women?”

“Yeah,” Porthos said, raising his eyebrows. “It was impressive.”

Tucking stray hair behind her ear impatiently, Constance shrugged off her coat. She’d only just arrived, d’Artagnan insisting she sit and he get her a drink, Athos nursing his third in the corner and Aramis taking the opportunity to follow d’Artagnan and flirt with Perrine, the tavern owner’s wife. “What were they like?”

Porthos relaxed into his chair, taking a drink for something to do. “I can’t say much what they were all like. Pretty wary, didn’t like us for being soldiers at first. Efficient, intelligent.”

“He shirked off for the fight,” Aramis said, he and d’Artagnan returning, drink put in front of her. “Went off to deliver a baby while the rest of us did the real work.”

“Elodie,” Porthos said at the fresh questions in Constance’s eyes. “Widow of a soldier. She was heavily pregnant when we arrived. Still working, though.”

D’Artagnan shook his head, smiling. “Incredible woman.”

A lull in the conversation invited Aramis to regale Constance with an unimpressive tale of his heroism, and he gave Porthos time.

He agreed with d’Artagnan. Resilient and brave and loyal, Elodie danced around the edges of his vision when she wasn’t even there, not leaving him in peace. The only thing his brothers didn’t know about him was hers, his shame passed to her. She held it tight to her chest but the look in her eyes didn’t change when they rested on him, and the secret a tether between them. The pull to her, the lure of following that invisible rope, seemed to be reeling him on.

How had she enchanted him so? He hadn’t known her a day, hadn’t been gone more than a few hours.

Athos bade them goodnight- Aramis, despite himself, poured the rest of his drink down his throat and hurried after him. D’Artagnan raised an eyebrow at Porthos, knocking his own drink back and stood to get another.

“What?” Constance glanced between them.

On Aramis’ suggestion, it was agreed that no musketeer walked alone at night, with Grimaud as elusive as wind caught by bare hands. Porthos explained it to her while d’Artagnan bought them a whole bottle of wine, and Constance played with the ring on her finger, frowning.

“Is he that dangerous?”

“He nearly killed us,” Porthos shrugged, taking the bottle and pouring himself more, smirking at d’Artagnan rolling his eyes.

“Yes, but…” Constance’s fidgeting was halted by d’Artagnan, who lay his hand on hers and squeezed. “It’s hard to imagine his being a threat as that persistent.” 

D’Artagnan pulled her hand and kissed it. “He isn’t a threat to you.”

She rolled her eyes, drinking. “It wasn’t me I was thinking about, you fool.”

Porthos drank to that, Constance laughing and d’Artagnan flicking the cork at him, thunking square on his forehead. This led to a battle that saw Constance being used as a reluctant and ineffective shield by d’Artagnan, and the settlement agreed to by way of a card game (Porthos won. Porthos cheated, but he won).

Three bottles of wine drunk, and Constance far wiser to cards with Porthos’ instruction, they were chivvied out by Perrine and strolled the streets back to the garrison.  
Constance kept looking over her shoulder, always close to one or both of them, sober in the cold air the way the men weren’t. Porthos didn’t presume to tell her they were safe, because God knew they weren’t, but they were as safe as they could be. He and d’Artagnan already survived execution together, and Constance hadn’t even been there for d’Artagnan to fight for too.

A lone attack would be equal to giving up on Grimaud’s part at this moment. Besides, he would want to kill all of them together. It would be more poetic- Aramis was just exercising caution, as new as it was to him.

He nudged her with his elbow. “You know, Elodie reminded me of you.”

“Elodie?”

“The pregnant woman, at the camp.”

“Oh. Really?” Her face brightened, looking up at him, but d’Artagnan seemed more focussed on walking straight.

Porthos could be fair and admit they hadn’t drunk together, or that much, in a long time, but he wouldn’t. “Intelligent and tough. You’d like each other, I think. You’d both run Athos out of a job- there wouldn’t be a need for a captain.”

“He wanted to stay with her,” d’Artagnan said, and Porthos slapped him upside the head.

“You did?” Constance said, ignoring her husband stumble beside her. “Why didn’t you?”

Porthos shrugged. “She said France needed me.”

Constance’s face fell. “Are you going to see her again?”

“Probably not,” he said, more casual than he felt. “Besides, she was wrong. France doesn’t need me- but these idiots do.”

“That was unnecessarily rude,” d’Artagnan said, and Constance giggled, tucking herself into his side while he muttered something in her ear. Knowing him, he said whatever he said just to hear her laugh again.

Porthos listened to them as they walked, his turn to keep a wary eye out. Moments like this presented themselves, but their value couldn’t be overstated. Until Grimaud died, they weren’t promised. Defeat wasn’t likely, but death was. Any one of them might not be standing tomorrow, and Constance and d’Artagnan had dice rolling against their names, nothing could be done for that anymore.

But Elodie. Elodie, her daughter, they needn’t be a part of that. No dice yet rolled for them, and there was no need for it. He took another look at Constance and d’Artagnan.

The only reason he would have something that precious was if he could keep it.

**Author's Note:**

> in all these one shots I’m doing I’m like ‘imma include Constance and d’Artagnan, it’s fine, they’ll just be in the background’ and then they’re always so cute they steal the spotlight /how goddammit/  
> also I've written about four other musketeer one-shots, they're up on my account here if you're interested :) just click on my name and go to my 'works'!


End file.
